13&21
by Miss Whoniverse
Summary: From '50 Things the Team Have Learned from Each Other'. Numbers 13 and 21 have been combined to make a lol oneshot. Read that fic first if you already haven't! Rated M for mild gore just at the end for a moment, and a few F-bombs. Enjoy, and review!


**Hey people :D A slightly OC, but nevertheless funny, oneshot.**

**I'm here because someone asked for stories related to **_**50 Things the Team Have Learned from Each Other **_**and my writing partner friend thingy person, KitCatty and I, are going to write some. Check out hers too :]**

**I'm doing numbers 13 – You must never talk about the bunny; and 21 – The laws of physics are facts, not challenges; with references to a lot of the other ones, too, so if you haven't already, read that one first. Enjoy!**

**13 & 21**

It wasn't a huge surprise to Jack when he woke up one morning to the in_vig_orating sight of a massive catapult being assembled outside his window.

He irritably wiped away the crusties in his eyes, and an ominous twitch developed in his right shoulder that he was sure signified impending doom.

He walked down the stairs slowly with a deliberately condescending expression, ready to lecture his childlike companions about the amount of faith he had in their exploits – absolutely none.

Owen looked up happily when he heard Jack, and saw him stepping down each stair with an exaggerated swing in his legs; hands in pockets; sleeves rolled up.

Owen's less stupid side (tests show that the capacity of this area is roughly that of a pistachio shell) recognised the barely concealed threat and alarm bells began to ring, but Owen fobbed it off because Jack wasn't visibly armed.

"So, Owen, how's your morning going?" asked Jack guardedly, testing the waters. If Owen was on another one of his mad scientist regimes, he had probably called and roped in the others by now too. Jack remembered the jelly swimming pool that one time, and shuddered. He was only glad he hadn't been asleep under the desk or something when they filled the room, otherwise he'd have drowned and then have had to eat his way out.

"Grea'!" said Owen enthusiastically, and Jack instantly was on full alert.

_Crappy accent heightened, check, _he thought warily. _Large medieval assault structure being constructed in my high-tech laboratory, check. Apparent loss of cognitive functions, check. I think Owen might be drunk._

As Owen eagerly produced a bag with a squirming bunny in it, Jack blanched. _Oh for fuck's sake! This is JUST like the time he blew up the rat to prove his point! I mean, we would have believed him anyway, but did he have to blow it up? What the fuck is with him and rodent popping?! _After a slight pause, Jack added to himself, _he'd better not go near my mice, or I'll shoot him again._

Jack was fuming sullenly. He'd already been shot. Twice. And it wasn't even midday yet.

Once the others had turned up at the lab, Owen had instantly sucked them in to his stupid little scheme, and they quickly degenerated to his level – idiots. Idiots who were prepared to defend their little project if it was threatened in any way.

"This is insane," Jack kept repeating. "What do you intend to do to that damn bunny?!"

Owen and the others had constructed the catapult, tested its stability, and then proceeded to take it down again.

"_FI_NALLY!" snapped Jack. He was sick of this – Owen was going to be pumped full of antidepressants and antihallucinogenics for the rest of his life if Jack got his way!

The only reason he let Owen stay, with all his lunatic ideas and crazy schemes and trigger happy fingers, was that he was the only certified doctor Jack could find who was also good with a gun, computers, and aliens – but next time, he was going to get a female.

It was Tosh's turn to stand guard – for the rest of them – while Jack paced restlessly, unwilling to leave them alone for fear of what they might throw... or throw at.

As he realised they intended to pack up the catapult and move it somewhere else, he threw his hands into the air in exasperation.

Gwen, Owen, and Ianto backed out carefully, time and time again as they came back for more bits of the catapult, presumably loading it compactly into the SUV. Tosh stood at the door with her gun levelled boredly at Jack, automatically following his movements as she worked casually with her PDA in the other hand. She had a completely steady arm; ramrod straight. Jack found himself gritting his teeth and wishing she was armed with a Desert Eagle so she'd be forced to use two hands, and very delicately, just so someone else was uncomfortable.

When they were ready they grabbed Tosh and took off. Jack ran faster, pick pocketing the keys from Owen who had pick pocketed them from him earlier, and he swung tightly into the driver seat. When confronted, he pointed out that he was not going to be left behind and the only way to ensure that he wasn't going to be shot out of the car or something was to be driving.

They accepted this readily enough, and he sighed.

"Check the rift prediction program, Tosh," purred Gwen in her accented voice. Jack shivered – granted, he shivered most of the time when Gwen spoke, but not usually in UNBRIDLED FEAR.

After a pause and some tapping, Tosh spoke. "We have one in about seven minutes – that's lucky; we could have been waiting hours."

"Oh, goody," muttered Jack as he gunned them off to the office roof where they had had more than one unpleasant experience with the rift. He shuddered delicately as he recalled John and his orgy attempts.

Long story short, they all ended up staring at a large catapult erected in front of the shimmering lights of the rift.

"Right, load 'er up!" yelled Owen cheerfully, his accent more prominent than ever. He produced the rabbit from his pocket, which squeaked its lips together cutely; and threw it to Ianto who had clambered up the shaft of the catapult.

Jack kept desperately trying to explain sense into them. "Remember the golf balls?" he called futilely.

"Yes," said Owen, suddenly sounding a little menacing, and he paused dramatically. "Which is why _you're_ going to do it."

Jack wasted no time. Obviously Owen had intended it to play out like it did in films; someone says something evil and after the victim person looks aghast for a moment, the scene cuts to the victim doing it.

Not if Jack had a say in the matter.

In fact, he didn't _say _anything – he turned on his heel and nimbly darted to the car, getting into the driver's seat and locking the doors. Owen stared, looking like an abandoned child, and Jack crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Fine," sulked Owen, turning back to the group, and behind him Jack dropped his aggressive stance in relief. "I'll do it then, but we'll all have to leap out of the way as soon as I do it, okay?"

Enthusiastic and slightly infantile nods accepted this plan, and they gathered behind the catapult, pulling down on the spoon and securing it with difficulty to the hook.

Jack watched in disbelief as Tosh reached into her shirt and pulled a broadsword out of freakin' nowhere, handing it to Owen, who nodded at her.

"Everyone ready?" he asked with barely suppressed glee. "DUCK!"

He swung the sword in a wide circle and it sliced cleanly through the rope. He let the sword fly from his hands and stick comically into the shed-type-thing on the roof, before flinging himself on the ground with the others.

Jack found himself clutching the armrests of the car in terror as the arm of the weapon whipped forwards, hurtling the poor rabbit into the rift. Barely a second passed, and then suddenly a flaming bunny zapped out of the rift - which billowed angrily before receding – and splattered straight in front of Jack's face on the windscreen in front of him.

He screamed hysterically as blood and guts streamed down the window, and he thrashed madly, slapping and kicking and jerking as he fought desperately with the door. It opened suddenly and he lurched out, tripping and bumping his knee and stumbling up and bursting into tears and running to the edge of the building to get away and tripping and falling off. All in quick succession.

The rest of the team watched with amusement, then sobered up and decided that he'd be fine; he'd survived that sort of thing before.

Owen briskly turned back. "Righ', so how far d'you reckon it wen'?" he asked in his oh-so-smexy voice.

Tosh answered quickly, "Oh, at least twenty million light years," she said in her own, more delicate voice – that Owen secretly loved, and vice versa.

"For a medieval catapult?" spoke up Gwen. "That's gotta be a record."

"Yeah, but look at the result," said Ianto, blanching. "I'm going to have to clean that, you know!"

The rest of the team performed a perfect triple-shrug. "Good luck, then," said Tosh politely.

Jack stumbled back onto the roof after that, looking severely embarrassed and exacerbated... also a little pissed off.

There was a bit of a standoff. Jack gritted his teeth, for the millionth time that day.

"What... did I _tell _you...." he snarled.

"That the laws of physics are facts, not challenges," replied Ianto promptly. At the ensuing silence, he cocked his head. "I'm sorry, was I not supposed to answer? I'll just... you know, go over here."

He went over there.

Jack stood at the far end, still fuming. Nobody said anything. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and heaved a huge sigh through his teeth.

"In future," he said laboriously. "We must _NEVER _talk about the bunny."


End file.
